Golden Opportunity
by InSilva
Summary: It's good to have someone to share life's big joke with. And it's not like the someone has to actually understand the joke. Oneshot.


Golden Opportunity by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own either of them.

Summary: It's good to have someone to share life's big joke with. And it's not like the someone has to actually understand the joke. Oneshot.

A/N: Acknowledging an Ed McBain influence. And inspired by Ligeila. Thanks as always to otherhawk for the pre-read.

_

* * *

_

Houston

He couldn't stop smiling. Life was amazing. It was like he'd taken some sort of drug and everything was brighter and glowing and special and…just _amazing._

He walked back to the table and the love of his life looked up and smiled in return and his heart skipped and his breath hitched. It shouldn't be possible for this reaction _every_ time, should it? But then, none of this should be possible.

"You OK?" Soft and gentle.

Laughing, he sat down and stretched out a hand tentatively, wonderingly, still not believing it was real. His hand was clasped in an instant, thumb running over the back of his knuckles, reassuring, encouraging.

"I-I can't…"

Tears welled up and that wasn't so unusual these days. He seemed to live continually on the verge between laughter and crying. His life had been so ordinary and IT might pay well but the part he worked in was hardly sexy. He was used to being overlooked and early nights and shopping for meals for one. What had happened this last week…it was impossible, incredible…it was some kind of dream and he didn't want it to be over…

"Hey…" A squeeze of his fingers. "Hey. S'OK."

He blinked back the tears and stared instead at the beautiful man opposite him.

"It's OK," the man said again. "Finish your meal. Then we can go somewhere for dessert."

_

* * *

_

Manhattan

She read and reread the text message and swallowed hard. He wanted to see her again. He shouldn't have wanted to see her the first time. He should have walked past her like the rest of the world and let her get back to her apartment and her cat, Malone.

He wanted to see her again and she couldn't control the flutter in her chest. He was just so… Her mouth was suddenly dry. This had to be some sort of joke. He was leading her on, playing with the Plain Jane lawyer with the Fifth Avenue penthouse and it was all a game to him.

She stared down at the text and knew she couldn't take the chance she was wrong.

She _was_ wrong. He was sincere and her knees had almost given way when she looked at him and realised he meant it. He was interested in _her_ and he wanted to spend time with _her_ and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. This man who didn't care about her qualifications or her wealth. This man who smiled at her like she had made his day just by existing. This man who took her by the hand to the ballet, the opera, the serious little off-Broadway endeavours and who always paid and who never once acted as anything less than a gentleman. _He's like Daddy,_ she thought and he was. Charming and well-mannered.

Then there were other ways in which he was definitely _not_ like Daddy. That unexpected rainshower in Central Park and he'd taken off his jacket and wrapped it round her. The rain had soaked his shirt through and she'd glimpsed well-defined muscles and strong arms.

She'd lain in bed, Malone lying on her feet, and thought about his body and heat had rushed through her. Trembling, she'd rolled over on her side, ignoring the grumble from Malone and pressed her thighs together very tightly.

* * *

_Hollywood_

"It stops."

His key is still in the lock of the door of the apartment he is borrowing. He stares at the man at the window and amusement runs over his face. Danny. Of course, Danny. He pulls the key free and walks into the room, letting the door swing to behind him.

"Long time, no see."

"I think we can skip pleasantries."

He shrugs. "As you wish. Whisky?"

"No."

He shrugs again and moves to the bar, pouring himself one, taking his time, knowing how aggravating Danny will find it. Sure enough-

"Damn it, Rusty! You think I don't get papers inside?"

"When did you get out?"

"_What?"_

He repeats himself, slowly, carefully and Danny sighs.

"This morning."

"Frank told you I was here."

Statement. He's cut everyone else loose from the days before Danny went inside. Frank is the only person that he still sees on a semi-regular basis. Danny doesn't deny it.

"What are you doing here?"

He sips the whisky and sits down in the easy chair, resting the glass against his forehead. "Killing time."

Danny's face darkens. "Not funny."

"Not meant to be." Sharp and his fingers tighten around the glass. "You get the cookies I sent?"

Cookies from Houston. Cookies from the bakery in Manhattan. Cookies from Nashville and Baton Rouge and Seattle and two dozen other places across mainland USA.

"Why'd you think I came to see you first?" Danny's mouth tightens. "This has got to stop."

_

* * *

_

Five years previous

Danny Ocean is unexpected and he's different. He just is. He's a con man and he's clever and he's confident and Rusty likes all three things about him. Danny likes him too but then what's not to like?

Two solo operators who meet by accident – Rusty's never gonna put it down to Fate – and they have drink after drink and then suddenly, Danny's sharing the plan. It's a crazy plan that makes Rusty do a double take and then shake his head and laugh. It's a crazy plan and even though it's not his preferred field of operations, he knows how to make it work. Details just fall into place in his brain.

The job is successful, of course, and surrounded by bundles of money, Danny laughs up at him.

"You want to…?"

_Work together._

The two words hang in the air between them and for a wild, wild moment, Rusty contemplates it. Partnership. Plan after plan. Job after job. Danny. Danny and him.

Then he shakes his head and smiles. "I work alone."

* * *

They bump into each other again and Rusty's flattered because he knows Danny's planned it. Danny's eyes tell him he knows he knows.

More drinks and he's sloppy and Danny's questioning nearly catches him out. It catches him out enough to let Danny see a shadow of the truth. Danny's face freezes with horror and Rusty waves a dismissive hand.

"It's nothing."

"How can you say that?"

He can say it. Sleeping with people for the sake of the con. Using his looks, his body, his charm to separate people from their money. He is good at it. No, he is _exceptional _at it. And in the grand scheme of things, the sex is nothing.

"Rusty-"

"Drop it, Danny."

"You've got to stop." Low and earnest.

Rusty sighs. "_You've_ got to stop. Let it go."

"I can't-"

"Oh, you can. Or I will walk away right now."

Not an empty threat and Danny knows it. He watches Danny close his eyes and swallow. What the hell. He stands up to leave and Danny's hand shoots out and grasps his wrist.

"Stay," Danny says hoarsely.

* * *

They brush circles of acquaintance again and again. Too often for Rusty to think it coincidence even if he had. Danny likes him. Danny cares about him. Danny wants him safe and that makes Rusty grin even more than usual. Amusement lights his eyes every time he looks at Danny.

He doesn't stop.

Danny introduces him to Tess. Tess doesn't exactly like him – instinct, he guesses - and that is just fine because he isn't that keen on Tess. But he can smile politely and make small talk and do absolutely nothing she can take offence at. He watches her struggling with the effort of being civil and he watches Danny flick worried glances at her. There will be rows when he has left. Rusty's lips twitch at the thought and he concentrates on being as charming as he knows how.

* * *

Rusty lies in bed and forward supposes actions and reactions and the challenge presents itself and after that, there's only one thing to do. Rusty has never backed down from a challenge yet. Professional pride.

* * *

Danny comes back to find Tess gone and he calls Rusty to come over. Rusty demurs but the temptation is too great. He visits and finds Danny buried in shock and loss. He holds on to Rusty's hand like it's some kind of lifeline.

Rusty makes himself unavailable. Overseas for a while and out of reach. When he gets back, he finds that Danny has decided to show Tess once and for all and maybe only when Danny gets arrested, does Danny see how pointless that little spiral of self-destruction is.

He goes to Danny's trial and sits in the front row, eating popcorn till the court officials ask him to stop.

Danny thanks him with his eyes for the support and Rusty smiles back at him. There's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

* * *

The cookies are inspiration. He doesn't need to sign his name. Danny will know who sent them.

He doesn't stop. And the cookies keep coming.

* * *

Back to the present and the borrowed apartment and Danny standing staring at him as he sits in the easy chair and waits.

"How many?" Danny asks suddenly.

"Does it matter?"

"I'd say so."

Rusty considers. The actual number is flashing through his brain but he's not sharing that with Danny. "Not as many as there's going to be."

"_Why?_ For fuck's sake, Rusty, look at you."

"The way I look is precisely the why." Rusty's smile is thin. "You think there's no science behind this?"

His life is spent in research and details and observation. Finding target after target. Knowing how to approach and who to be and what will work. He knows he's beautiful. He can turn heads as a matter of course. And he always goes for those who will be grateful for the attention. It makes things so much simpler.

"I…" Danny looks like he wants to burst into tears but he masters it and forces the words out. "I didn't know at first. Not until eight months in. It was a little story tucked away on page five and I probably wouldn't have paid it much attention then except that it was Poughkeepsie and I remembered the address on the cookie box."

Ah, Poughkeepsie. Home to Rosemary Porter. Faithful spinster secretary to the late MD of a FTSE 500 company. Rosemary Porter, who'd been very nicely recompensed in his will. Poughkeepsie. Home to the now late Rosemary Porter.

"You didn't tell anyone," Rusty points out mildly. "You could have stopped it."

He waits for the snort or the laugh but instead he gets eyes full of pain.

"I could have tried," Danny whispers. "But I needed to look you in the eyes and ask you."

Rusty knows the question. He still makes Danny ask it. Danny licks his lips and he's obviously spent such a long time rehearsing this moment. Words tumble incoherently.

"Did you…Tess…did you?"

Tess. Beautiful Tess and nowhere close to usual prey. He'd wanted to see if he could overcome the not quite liking and charm her away from Danny.

Rusty tips the whisky at him. "Oh, yes."

Danny's face crumples and then he charges blindly forwards, raising the gun. Pulling the 45 from down the side of the chair, Rusty beats him to it. Two shots clinically placed and Danny drops to the rug.

Rusty is on his feet in an instant and kicking Danny's gun away as Danny lies, wet life bubbling away from him. Rusty crouches down beside him.

"Life is just full of surprises, Danny," he whispers.

* * *

Rusty empties out the enormous icebox, leaving Danny rolled up in the rug inside. The owners are away on a round-the-world cruise and he smiles to himself at the little welcome back present.

He wipes down the apartment thoroughly – he is a past master at never having been places – and then he heads out the door and to the station. He picks a destination at random and gets on a train.

He looks down at the ticket in his hand. Vegas. America's playground. Rusty's eyes gleam.


End file.
